Do you not ask yourself why Prince is dead at 57 but The Queen is still going strong?
Do you not ask how the Queen Mother got to a hundred but your grandmother died during childbirth long before you were even born?
Do you not ask yourself why this should be if we are nearly all of women born?
Is it because it’s in the genes but you and Prince did a lot worse?
Or is it because The Queen grew up in a palace
And her connections go back generations but not yours?
Or because the Queen can have a quiet word with the Prime Minister, but you have a vote in the seat of a man you can never dislodge?
So as we all raise three hearty cheers to The Queen on her ten plus four score years
And to that proud Royal photo of four generations
Think of your kids and their kids, when the NHS is no more
And their school playgrounds are rutted not by rugby boots but by juggernauts.
Where will they go to play when Green Belts succumb to concrete blocks?
Remember how low you bent your back to feed them. Will you even reach sixty-four?
And when you’re gone will the Treasury take your tiny piggy bank from them when it does not dare touch the treasures stored at the top of the Mall?
Think on these things,
but don’t despair, because if you were born down south within a glimpse of the glittering crown you’ve got ten more years living feeling better on this planet than your friend who was born and lives in the North
And if you are our friend who was born and lives in the North, you are still living, living better than that man lying dead in the Gaza strip Congo or Sudan.
As you are like a king and princess, a queen and prince to him by an accident, by an accident of birth, by an accident of descent, by an accident of skin pigment.
